The future will judge me correct — a gift to the generations after me™

His answer, on the flow, to the emptiest chair in the house. Why hasn't the present scored the work? Because the present can't: people don't have the time he has, and the information air is captured — real-time news isn't available; we live in the propaganda universe. So the jury is relocated: the work is a gift to the generations that come after, and the future will judge it correct. What keeps that from being every crank's consolation is the Ledger: a propaganda universe wins by erasing and rewriting records, and this one is built to survive — dated, hashed, checkable, whole. "The future will vindicate me" is a hope; "the future will have my record" is a fact already true. Sibling to the future will debate me (the chair now has a date, even if it's far). Kin: the Record Is the Arbiter, radical transparency, the future will debate me. (0g: the record surviving is a fact; the verdict landing his way is his conviction, labeled — not asserted as foreknowledge.) (His coin — machine's read, refine to his.)